Seven Lives
by Kazan0191
Summary: Having lived over seven lifes from a curse he wants rid of, Kurosaki Ichigo seeks for his revenge on the God who cursed him with immortality. Thinking of himself as inhuman, he is shocked to find he still has the power to love along his tragic journey.
1. Prologue

_A/N: Okay guys, I got inspiration for this story while listening to this song that I LOVE. It's called Broken by Sonata Arctica. I suggest you go to youtube, and listen to it and look at the lyrics before you read this, it makes a lot more sense. That song influenced the story here. It's IchiRuki, with slight GrimmNel and other pairings, but it is NOT a smut fic. It's an adventure/tragedy fic. _

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, I wanted to try something different here. I'm already on chapter three of this and I'll be updating everything else shortly. ^^_

_All references to the lyrics of the song are © to Sonata Arctica _

_Do you really __**know me**__?_

_I might be a __**God**__;_

_Show me that you __**care**__ and have __**a cry**__,_

_How do you see me?_

_As the one;_

_Can you see my __**blood when I'm bleeding**__?_

_Broken - Sonata Arctica._

_Disclaimer- I don't own Bleach characters, but some of my OC's will be featured._

Seven Lives- Prologue.

* * *

Imagination. It's such a strange thing. It can take one to the far reaches of the universe, to the bottom of the sea, to the top of the world's highest mountain with just one mere thought. When one imagines, the brain develops this imagination subconsciously, which gives the person ideas to go on, something to live by. But some things cannot be merely imagined. Some things cause emotions which the brain cannot imagine, which block the brain's ability to imagine something. The brain cannot comprehend these emotions as it does not understand the situation without ever having been in it, so the brain puts a mental block stopping the person from imagining these emotions. These emotions can only be experienced if the person is reliving a memory. Such as pain. Imagining a situation where one is caused severe physical or emotional pain is impossible to comprehend if the person is merely imagining. Or grieving. Unless the person has experienced great loss in their life, one cannot comprehend the emotional trauma felt through the power of imagination. But imagination can make people understand certain positive emotions. If someone describes an event in which they are happy in to someone else, the other person can slightly understand their emotion, as the brain understands an emotion such as happiness.

Some people take for granted the power of imagination, because every idea in history has evolved in someone's brain to develop into something successful, or chaotic. Every event in history has come from one person's idea of something like that being able to happen. Wars, technology, science, education, everything has evolved from one person's idea. Once an idea is planted into the mind, it subconsciously lingers for the person's lifetime, reconstructing itself and evolving into something magnificent. These ideas can be designs, culture, religion, anything in which a person allows it to be. Sometimes the power of imagination is overlooked, and therefore discarded.

Imagination can tell stories. Such as this one. Many people of young and old gather to listen to stories told by anyone willing to tell. Be them religious ranting, or stories of cliché princes rescuing the damsel in distress and living together in some castle where they can live 'happily ever after'. Well, this is a story. Depending on whether you like happy endings or not, it is your choice to continue reading.

When asked to imagine something, each and every person has a different viewpoint and aspect of the situation. They may experience something slightly different, such as a person's height or how they stand. Or it can go to extreme differences such as the environment around them, or the way a person behaves. All of this is down to personality. Be you creative, outspoken, thoughtful, selfish, unemotional: you will all have different views on how you picture a story.

But imagine this: You. You have lived for seven lifetimes. You stand, on the very edge of existence overlooking the chaos of the world. It's almost as if time is standing still for you while the world carries on and evolves around you. You cannot escape. In front of you, you see a barrier. This is of course, a metaphoric barrier, but it still serves the same purpose as a physical barrier. This barrier is not opaque, but can blur your vision if tampered with. You can see the lives of everyone around you, carrying on as if you do not exist. But of course, you do. Unfortunately.

You poke it. It merely ripples. You poke it again and it ripples once more. Only one ripple appears and carries on with each poke, how many times you poke it is down to you. These ripples carry on and on and on all the way to the end of the barrier. But there is no end. These ripples, are shockwaves. Consequences of you attempting to escape the barrier. These consequences are put there to stop you from scratching the wall, preventing you from escaping your fate. This is a mental barrier in your mind which is stopping you from letting something out, or in. That which, you do not know.

Can you still picture that image? Let's continue.

You do not age. You stay the same in looks and health forever. All these seven lifetimes, this invisible barrier that constantly surrounds you wherever you go stops you from dying. You have tried to kill yourself in every way imaginable. You've locked yourself in a room and set it alight, you've tied yourself to weights and thrown yourself in a river. You have shot yourself in the head, the heart, every fatal place that should kill someone. You have overdosed on drugs, sat on train tracks and got yourself run over. You have hired someone to torture you, an assassin, to cause you as much pain as possible and then kill you. You have let yourself get beaten, drugged and slung to die. You have drank to your hearts content hoping for liver failure. Only you feel no pain. You have even sliced your body from jugular to navel, and taken out your own organs, literally turning yourself inside out. When you did this, you stood there, looking at your bowels in their colourful mess on a table in front of you, the blood oozing from your wound and the cuts you have slashed into your organs. And you cry. Nothing works. Yes, you pass out from all these attempts, but you merely wake up the next morning with nothing but a scar on your body. Whether or not this is the area where pain was inflicted, a scar appears, like a tally chart on your body to count how many times you have failed. You've lost count. This is the curse, of immortality.

Of course, you do not know where you got this immortality, nor do you want it. At first, it seemed like the best thing imaginable. You could get into bar fights and get stabbed and feel no pain. You could never grow ill or injure yourself. But as everyone around you aged, they died. This immortality was granted to you by a higher power as a punishment for actions you do not know.

Can you still imagine this?

Let us carry on then.

Your family. Well, used to be. Your family died during your first lifetime. You had to bury your family and mourn their loss for another six lifetimes and more to come. Your father, your sisters, buried next to your already dearly departed mother who's death you tried to avenge too many times to count. You was so close to finding her killer, yet the slippery bastard managed to evade you once more. You can't rest until he's dead, but unfortunately you'll never rest. It's not nice standing and watching your loved ones die.

If you're still imagining this, just keep in mind the barrier.

As well as your family, but your lovers. Buried in a different plot, seven graves, one for every love you've had. None of these had broken your heart, for you have forgotten what one is, apart from one who took you by surprise. This makes you feel inhuman, like your very existence is a mockery and the so-called God's are laughing at your demise, punishing you for this, for a crime you do not remember committing.

You try to figure out your crime. Was it the family you almost killed in order to protect your own family? Was it the woman you lusted for when your wife was at home, awaiting her almighty husband's return? Did you not attend your religious meetings enough, or slack in work? For all you know, your crime was being born.

You do not feel hunger. Nor do you get tired, or ill. You do not feel any human bodily function. You can't even remember the last time you ate. You have no need to.

Bitterness. Bitterness is the only emotion you feel right now. You cannot feel anything else, for your so-called heart does not allow you to do so. Emotion is overrated, and all you want to do is kill the evil twisted son-of-a-bitch who cursed you with this. You cannot kill him. As much as you don't feel it, you are merely human.

Still imagining?

When you do attempt to die, Heaven will not take you, Hell's sold out, you walk on earth waiting to find new lives to ruin, attempting to fill the hollowness inside as you linger here and there, passing through towns in order to gain Intel and satisfy your revenge. Your revenge you ask? Your revenge is to brutally murder the sick- twisted sadistic bastard who plagued you with this. You did no wrong, did you?

However, when you do not touch the barrier, those around you do not suffer. For one lifetime, your most recent one, you only touched the barrier once. That resulted in the death of the only person you ever truly felt anything for. You don't want that barrier, but it's always there.

I think the lesson here is: don't poke that goddamn barrier.

Of course, this is all metaphorically speaking. Everyone will have a different image of this story, which is all done through a power we all share. Some more than others will gain a more vivid image, it all depends on personality. But through this, everyone is unique.

Now, I'm sure you're all wondering why this is being spouted at you. That image you just gave yourself is a story. A vague one, yes. But still a story in itself. Life in itself, is short. But when repeated over and over it gets tiresome, and people lose their emotions. Just like the subject of this story.

I know what you're thinking. 'What poor soul would that have to happen to?' 'What a bunch of crap, it's all shit.' Well, this is nothing to do with you. This is just a story re-told through the ages of the man who could not die. The man who was cursed and forced to wander earth finding 'love' and being forced to stand and watch the ones he wanted to protect, die. The story of his seven lives, and who knows? He could still be alive right now.

The only thing remembered of this man, was his bright orange hair, and amber eyes.

You can stop imagining now.

~oOoOoOo~

_Well guys, that's it. The prologue for this story. Those of you who know the song, you'll have been able to pick out the lyric references. XD_

_Now, the rest of the story won't be written in this narrative. I just wanted to try something different, and I know it's short, but it's hard to ramble about this without saying the entire story :C_

_Anyway, REVIEW AND SUBSCRIBE._

_NO FLAMES D8_

_~Kazan._

_Oh yeah, if anyone wants any updates on 'Stolen', I'll be updating that by about… Thursday if I remember. _


	2. Those Who Are Weak

_A/N: right, I wanna start with a thank you to those who have given me great reviews and subscribed to this story, it keeps me motivated to write :D_

_I don't like super long A/N's, take up too much writing time, so that's it C:_

_Review replies-_

_Bankai guy~ THANK YOU :3 I did try really hard with this, and one of the best intros you've ever read *blushes* why thank ya :3_

_**Insanity, **__blessing for those born to __**hate you**__Burned by the __**embers of love**__, it is so __**cruel**__Howling the night, for __**sun of the midnight**__Serving the people, __**condemned you **__in the __**eternal night.**_

_Black Sheep- Sonata Arctica._

_Disclaimer- I wish I owned Bleach characters, but all I own is my Kon teddy and a picture. Soz._

Seven Lives- Those Who Are Weak.

People fight for many reasons. Some fight for greed, to ensure that they get what they want out of life. Fights can be sponsored and paid for, all payments going to the winner. Many street fights consist of amateur fighters who fight for this, in order to gain respect. When a man fights, he puts all his power in his attacks. The attacks determine the outcome of the fight, and if he is weak in his attacks, he himself is seen to be weak in all aspects. If however, the punches are strong, and backed up by power, respect is automatically given to the fighter. But the respect is gained through fear.

Fear controls many aspects of emotion. It is a major emotion which enhances the brains instincts. When frightened, an animal will do one of two things. It will lash out to its attacker or the source that made it feel afraid, in order to give itself confidence that it can survive. Or it will retreat, and not pursue the source of fear. This animalistic instinct is within humans, but we react differently. We praise the source of fear, fearing that if we do not we will be attacked ourselves. This 'false praise' is what many fighters wish to earn. But it is not the only factor in decisions. Other emotions come into play when dealing with fighting.

A person may fight for love. As cliché as it may sound, people fight for love of what they believe is right. In courts, people fight in -most of the time- an unphysical manner, aiming to fight for justice. People fight for their family, if threatened, once again, bringing out the animalistic instinct that lies in all of us. However, sometimes this is not the case. Some people twist this love into revenge. Revenge on others who may have yes, done you harm, but seeking vengeance consumes us, which is another trait, which unfortunately lies in humans. When devoured by our emotions, we become hollow inside, and we seek to fill that hole in our soul with satisfaction of seeing your revenge carried out. Much like the subject of this story. He will not rest until he sees the blood spill from the man's bowels. The man who took everything, everything away from him in one night. The ability to feel, love, care, lust, every emotion that seemed barely human. Drowned in his vengeance, man does strange and disorientated things- returning to what we feared. Animals.

~oOo~

Era- Old Reign 

'_Damn it.' The adrenaline coursing through his veins had started to wear off slightly now, making his breath raspy as he chased the bastard yet again. "fuck…" panting through deep breaths, the man turned the corner, sliding slightly over the wet cobblestones that lay on the ground. His legs started to feel weary, his bright orange hair sticking to his face as the rain poured out of the sky. 'The Gods are mocking us. This goddamn rain won't quit.' His feet skidding across the stones, Ichigo Kurosaki yelled in anger as he pushed himself further to chase the bastard who had taken everything away from him. He could hear his friends shouting after him, the ones who helped him all this time to find the person._

"_Ichigo!" The deep voice came from his fighting partner, Chad, who had agreed to fight for him, and only for him after his mother died. A tall, gentle fellow, many were shocked when they encountered his fists in a fight as the gentle-giant followed Ichigo's orders. Many had died at his hands in order to help his friends._

_Chasing the person into an alley between a local inn and a brewery, a wall blocked the person's escape as he turned to face the amber eyes, turning a sinister gold as his pursuer approached him. Smirking, Ichigo reached out a muscular arm, grabbing the man by the neck and throwing him against the wall. Dazed, the man groaned and huffed as he lost sense of direction, stumbling into a pile of rubbish left in the alley. 'I have you now. I finally, finally have you.' Grinning from ear to ear with pure sadistic glee, the only emotion he could feel that was relatively close to happiness, Ichigo bunched his free hand into a fist, perfectly aware that his companions had caught up with him at this point, and punched the man across the face as he was still regaining sense of control. _

"_You killed my mother…" Ichigo glared at his victim, his eyes full of sheer hate and need of vengeance. "You stood there while she protected me… and you killed her." The man merely stunned at his attacker, his gaze widened with fear as he saw a glimpse of orange hair that shone in the dark, reminding him of the same orange haired boy he'd attacked almost 20 years ago. _

"_Y-you?" Talking through broken teeth, the man mumbled, stumbling clumsily backwards unknowingly into the wall behind him. _

"_Yes." Ichigo raised his chin, showing a scar that ran from the side of his cheek down to the middle of the side of his neck, a constant reminder of that night. The man remembered slowly dragging his blunt blade down his face, giving him that scar. _

'"_Here, kid," bearing his teeth in an animalistic fashion, the hooded man pressed a knife against the young boy. He couldn't have been more than ten, his freckles showing signs of the fact he was still growing. Clad in cheap clothes, yet clean, the boy seemed typical for the time. Well, typical as can be when you're a boy with orange hair and golden eyes. "this is my signature, wear it well." Dragging the blunt blade down the boys cheek, he squeezed the child between his body and the wall stopping him from squirming around. He could hear the whimpers coming from the child, and it filled him with a sickening happiness to the core. The whimpers of a being weaker than you were satisfying to someone who lived for the purpose of killing.'_

_Ichigo's companions, Chad and Ishida, were stood at the end of the alley, serving two purposes. Blocking the man's escape, and making sure no-one got down there._

"_All these years…" Ichigo grinned and closed his eyes, basking in the satisfaction he was about to receive. "All these years chasing you. Having to stand and watch the family you destroyed crumble into nothing." Opening his eyes, they shone black in the darkness that draped over the alley, he glared at the man. He couldn't have been more than 6 foot, shorter than Ichigo anyway. His black unruly hair hung in dirty clumps around his face, the odd patch significantly shorter than the other. His dirty brown eyes, ones that Ichigo had burned into his mind ever since that summer night 20 years ago, now full of fear. This only filled Ichigo with more confidence, more hate for the man in front of him. _

"_I was nine years old. Nine when you attacked my mother and me on the way back from the inn. Nine fucking years old, when you dragged the knife down my face after you __**murdered**__ my mother," practically spitting the word murder, Ichigo balled his fists, reaching one into his pocket. Fumbling around, he grabbed a small blade, clutching onto it for dear life. "Nine years old, when you __**raped **__her, __**when you fucking murdered her in front of me!**__" Shouting the last part, Ichigo lunged for the man, stabbing him in the arm as the man attempted to dodge, pinning him against the wall._

_Shouting in pain, the man cursed as he grabbed the hand that surrounded the knife, swiftly yanking it out of his arm and pushing Ichigo away. Growling, staring at Ichigo with murderous intent, he grabbed his arm containing the weapon and snapped it back, yanking it around his back forcing him to drop his knife. Growling and feeling his wrist beginning to break, Ichigo yelled in pain as he swiftly kicked back, kicking the man on the shin forcing him off him. On the ground, the man shuffled over and grabbed the knife before Ichigo had a chance to retaliate. Leaping up, he drove it into his lower back, making an aim for his spine. Roaring as the implement drove into his back, Ichigo twisted to punch the man behind him. Succeeding, the man toppled back, ripping the blade from Ichigo's skin, and into the back wall of the alley, sending him in a daze. _

_Breathing heavily and attempting to ignore the shouts of advice from his companions which consisted of 'fall back, you're injured', Ichigo approached his victim, grabbing the knife from his hand. Gripping him around the neck, squeezing and relishing in the feeling of stopping the air going to his lungs, he felt the man choke and splutter as he attempted to speak._

"_Don't. Don't try to speak. You're not worthy of the attention." Ichigo spat, pushing harder on his hand to drive the man into the wall. "You're not even worthy to tell me your name. You're scum." He stood motionless for a moment, before lifting the man off the ground and pinning him against the wall. Spitting in his face, he watched as the man squirmed in disgust at the disrespectful act. _

"_Be-be quiet. Boy." The man sputtered, choking up blood. Reaching up slowly, he grabbed Ichigo's arm before grinning slightly, the corner of his mouth turning up in a sinister creepy fashion. "You're not the only one with a knife." Pulling up his other hand in a swift movement, Ichigo barely saw the blade coming as it came out of the man's dirty sleeve and drove deep into his forearm, forcing him to jump back, consequentially dragging the blade down his arm, blood oozing from his skin from the deep cut. Yelling as the blood dripped off his fingers, Ichigo grabbed his arm with his other, putting pressure above it to stop the bleeding. Spitting some more blood and a few teeth onto the cobblestones, the man swerved around Ichigo, coming around to his back ready to slash Ichigo's back open. Relying on his leg strength, he aimed to kick the man's face, but due to the height and Ichigo's injuries, he made a swift kick to the neck, causing the man to choke and gasp in surprise. Clutching at his neck, the man gasped for breath, giving Ichigo an opening to swing his fist to his face, crushing his skull between his fist and the wall. _

_The man was stunned. But Ichigo was far from satisfied. Pressing the knife to the man's left cheek, mirroring his own wound, he slowly drew a bead of blood, as he dragged the blade slowly down to his jawbone. The bead of blood now dripped from his chin and down his neck, and Ichigo followed the line, just until he stopped the blade at the column of the man's throat._

_But then something occurred to Ichigo. His friends. He couldn't hear their breathing or their voices, he couldn't sense that they were behind him at all. Setting a weary look over his shoulder, Ichigo's eyes widened at the scene._

_Murder. His friend's blood spilt on the floor. Oozing from their heads, chests, arms, Ichigo couldn't tell where. Chad was laid face down on the floor, his head twisted all the way round, obviously broken from the impact with the ground. Blood ran down his forehead, dripping all through to the ends of his dark brown wavy hair and onto the cobblestones. His right arm was slashed, blood drenched skin barely noticeable from the pool of blood that surrounded it. Ishida was laid on his back, his head leant up slightly against the wall, facing Ichigo. His eyes were open, his broken shards of glasses impaling his eyes forcing them to bleed profusely. His chest was covered in blood, the white and blue shirt he wore now drenched in a rich red colour. The line across his neck, slicing his jugular was obviously his attacker's approach. All he knew, was the man standing above them, searching their bodies for money, the knife he slashed Ishida's throat with still in his hand. "Bastard…" Unwillingly speaking his thoughts, he heard a sinister chuckle from the man crushed between his fist and the wall, making Ichigo feel a shiver run down his spine. It was a mocking laugh, laughing at the world. At him._

"_You're not the only one with friends." Turning his attention to the man he had caught between him and the wall, his world turned black as a excruciating pain entered him from the back and the front. He couldn't tell where he'd been stabbed. Had his victim stabbed him from the front somehow? Had his friend cut through his spine and into his heart? He couldn't tell. Only the warm feeling of fresh blood oozed from his body, as the weapon was twisted, only centimetres away from his heart and dragged upwards to impale the delicate organ. The last thing he heard? The mad cackling of the man who roared his triumph in his face, as his eyes closed, and his world with it._

~oOo~

Era- New Reign

The rowdy roar from the inhabitants of the inn was not normally the disruption to awake him during the night. Sweating and panting, the man paced up and down his room, aware of the fact he didn't need to sleep, revelling in horror at the memory. The pain coursed through him as the orange haired individual clutched at his chest, remembering that night where he 'died'. He could have sworn he did. He lost the two people he could have called friends that night. Chad, the loving, loyal friend who would literally, and did, put his life on the line for Ichigo. Ishida, well; they had their differences, hell, they hated each other. But Ishida wanted to make sure Ichigo stayed alive long enough for them to fight as equals. His pride was the damn thing that got him killed.

Setting down in the wooden armchair that sat in the corner of the room, Kurosaki Ichigo placed his head in his hands, attempting to sort the mess of thoughts buzzing around like a swarm of flies inside his mind. For three-hundred and eighty-eight years, Ichigo had been plagued. Condemned, beaten, punished, all for being killed on that one night. Were the God's mocking him as he endured his suffering, being their personal entertainment for eternity? He smiled inwardly to himself and mocked the fact he still believed in God's that existed and died nearly four hundred years ago. _'Get with the times, no-one believes in them anymore..'_ For the past six human lifetimes, Ichigo had to sit and watch the ones he attempted to care for, his 'family' and 'friends' die as he lived- never aging, never falling ill, just surviving. Barely.

After that night, he had apparently been unconscious for three months after. Everyone thought he was dead, except for one man. One man who Ichigo had truly respected as a father figure after the death of his family.

Urahara Kisuke and Kurosaki Isshin had been alike in so many ways. Being old friends, Kisuke and Isshin knew each other practically inside and out. Both being… eccentric in their personalities, Ichigo thought of both of them as an annoyance, but in a twisted way loved them. His family, both of them. Blood was not the only bond that was capable of making family, Ichigo knew that all too well.

All Ichigo remembered was waking up in a small room, bandages and oils covering his chest. The first thing he heard was laughter of a young boy, who shortly after stumbled into the room with a play wooden sword. He couldn't have been more than ten years old, and reminded Ichigo much of himself when he was that age. The only difference being his hair was fiery red instead of orange.

A small girl had appeared after that, black hair coming down her forehead and parting at her nose, the rest up in pigtails. He always remembered her as a sweet, yet inhumanely strong, girl. After she'd gone to get her parents, he saw the mother was a strong looking woman. Dark skinned, hair with a purple tint with golden eyes, she resembled an Egyptian painting. Her husband, was very much the opposite, who he recognised immediately. Floppy blond hair worn under a green striped bucket- hat, shadowing his face, which juxtaposed his mysterious against his annoying personality. He wore colourful robes, with green diamond shapes lining the bottom, and on his shoes he wore clog sandals. He always carried a cane. That was strange. The first thing he remembered the man doing to him was punching him, square in the face.

Apparently it was to make sure he was fully conscious, at the time, Ichigo thought otherwise, and ended up grabbing the man. Their relationship had always been kind of 'love-hate', and never really anything more than business, but Ichigo always found something about Urahara comforting. He remembered the conversation they had about how Ichigo 'died', and more importantly the fact, of why he was still alive.

'"_Ichigo," the orange haired individual groaned as he sat up on the mattress, his wound on his chest still ached, but his back was the worst thing from being laid down for three months. _

"_I know," He furrowed his brows slightly as memories of his 'death' played back in his mind, trying to piece things together, "I should be dead right?"_

"_If I'm honest, yes, and technically, you are." Urahara sat opposite Ichigo, whilst his wife stood at the doorway, "While you were unconscious, we ran a few tests on your wound. You was stabbed just below your heart, but the blade was removed at such an angle, that your heart was dragged through the blade, cutting it through the main vein that ran through it. In any case, this pours the blood from your heart, stopping it from beating in a matter of ten seconds," Looking up at the young man, he shifted his hat out of his eyes, "Ichigo, your heart isn't beating."_

_Without thinking, Ichigo grabbed at his chest, feeling through the bandages that were there. Nothing. In these times, it wasn't odd for someone to be healed by others, but they were only healed by the work of a top quality healer, and most of them had died out in the past century after the war between armies and sorcerers. He couldn't feel the beating of his heart, the movement of the muscles that allowed him to feel it. Bringing his fingers to his neck, he found his pulse area. Nothing. 'I'm __**dead**__?'_

"_We also ran some tests on your other bodily parts as well, to see if it was necessary for you to do things such as eat. Every day we took a sample from your stomach," He held up a group of small vials with a pale liquid inside of them, "and tested them for the acid necessary for your stomach to digest. There's nothing there, but slightly alkaline water. The complete opposite of what should be there. Your stomach isn't producing the acid needed to digest. You feeling hungry?"_

_Ichigo clutched at his chest, and rubbed it slightly, 'No, I'm not…' Looking up at Urahara, he waited for him to continue._

"_We did find something however. About a month ago when we discovered you no longer need use of your heart or stomach, we wondered if it was necessary for you to breathe." He placed the vials down and bought up some documents. "The only way to do this, was to suffocate you and see how you reacted," reading the documents, he sighed and shook his head, "it seems it's vital you breathe, like any normal person, as about two minutes into the suffocation, you started to show signs of distress, and after another minute, showed signs of aggression to get oxygen into your system. This shows your lungs still work, even though they were probably damaged during your attack. Now we can't say you're dead, and we can't say you're alive. It's been three months, and your body hasn't shown any natural decay that a three month old corpse should have done yet. Hell, you don't even stink of dead, you just really need to bathe. We don't understand what's keeping you alive, but we sure as hell need to find out, even if it means attempting to kill you."_

_While Ichigo digested all of this, he still couldn't figure out if he was dead or not. If he was dead, then it would only be a matter of time until his body naturally decayed, and if he wasn't dead, how the hell was he alive? And if they tried to kill him, and he didn't die, what did that mean? His heart wasn't beating, he didn't need to eat, and if he only needed to breathe, what else had he lost the need to do? His family must be worried sick-_

"_Where's my father? My sisters? What's happened to them?" His amber eyes turned dark as he turned to Urahara, worry evident in his gaze._

"_Ichigo, they were all murdered in the same week you 'died'. They're buried in your family plot."'_

~oOoOoOo~

_I know it's taken me forever to update, and that's because my internets been like, on and off lately. It's horrible, I've had to write this on my phone then update it here and wait until my internet likes me to __**try **__and update it and when it doesn't, I like cry and throw my laptop out the window. It's horrible._

_Anyway, I wanna thank everyone who's given me support on this, on ff.n and the other sites I've posted it on. Thank you ^^_

_I'm gonna try and update it as fast as I can, I'm writing it at school so hopefully I'll update in the week :D_

_Review and stuff, no flames~_

_~Kazan._


	3. A Little Piece Of Information

_I'm not gonna bother with the lyrics up here, you all get the gist._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, but the storyline created here is my own._

Seven Lives- A Little Piece Of Information

* * *

Ichigo had stayed with Urahara and his family for about 15 years, getting used to the ways of the world. He had watched the children grow from being pre-adolescents, to Jinta becoming an apprentice under his father's hand, proving to be talented in the spiritual arts. Ururu had taken after her mother's lineage, as Yoruichi's great-grandmother had been a Seer. Ururu's interpretations of what she saw regarding Ichigo's attacker gave him hope that he was still alive; still ready for him to kill.

Both Urahara and Yoruichi had changed in the time. Urahara had wizened beyond what Ichigo had thought him capable of, becoming a wise Magi to the refugees of the Old Sector. Of course, Yoruichi was still astonishingly strong, due to her obvious Amazonian bloodline; even if the years had taken their toll. Still quite strong, the years of battle had worn slight lines on her dark skinned face, even if her eyes still danced with gold. Such a beautiful woman who would have been suited to a prince or a Realm Protector, only the Gods know why she chose to marry a worn out Magi.

Ichigo had been vigorously training, for he knew he would have to leave this family soon. He couldn't stand the thought of living with them until they died. He'd lost one family, and he knew he would lose many to come, he only wanted not to witness their downfall.

The only companion he found he was able to keep was a horse from a field, which he had saved from being taken by bandits over four years ago. Only a small foal, the Palomino had taken a shining to Ichigo. For a while, the horse was a nuisance, for the family had no suitable stable or shelter for the animal, resulting in it growing in the small yard. Once broken in, Ichigo named the animal Tensa, and grew to accept her.

He remembered one evening before he left. The family were kneeling around the table, enjoying the evening meal. Earlier that day, Ururu had been reading the scriptures, brushing up on her history of the Fair Folk, and came across a particular story, that she sensed would both plague and help Ichigo. This story, that of which as Ichigo found, made more and more sense as they days passed. A story which would haunt Ichigo until his revenge consumed him.

~oOoOoOo~

'"_Father," She spoke silently, almost a mere whisper, "may I tell a tale after the meal?"_

"_Sure Ururu, may I ask why?" The Magi took off his bucket hat, revealing the mop of blond hair that lay beneath it. "It's not often you indulge in conversation I mean." _

"_I feel like this would be a beneficial time to tell this, especially with Ichigo departing in two nights time." Her pale blue eyes, almost blind, glanced over to Ichigo. "I wouldn't like him to leave without us having a few nights entertainment beforehand." She lied._

"_Very well then," Urahara turned to Ichigo. He was dressed in a simple shirt, tied with a brown belt in the middle with a sword hilt attached to the right hand side. His brown pants were tattered and worn, patched up slightly in places. He wore his riding boots, the black leather remarkably shiny considering the rest of his attire. On his right hand, he wore a fingerless leather glove, for his riding crop and swordsmanship. Even though he had not aged, he had certainly matured. "You should be honoured Ichigo, Ururu has also been offering prayers to the sacred lake every day for you."_

"_Has she?" Ichigo turned to look at the Seer, her eyes staring blankly at him. He felt like she was not looking at him, but through him. Such a wise girl for her young age. "Well, I thank you Ururu, that is very kind of you to make that journey every day. Though we live outside the city, it is still a long walk. Perhaps tomorrow morning I shall accompany you, I have prayers of my own." _

"_I would like that." Ururu stood, her black hair framing her small face, she flicked it out of her eyes. She wore a simple grey full length gown, what many Seers chose to wear. They preferred to live simply, only speaking when spoken to most of the time. Otherwise, very secretive people in society. Seers and Druids had that in common. She walked over to a stool placed in the corner of the room, settling herself comfortably while Jinta got her a glass of water. Jinta too, had matured from the arrogant young boy he was. His hair still fiery red, it was more lengthy now, just shorter than Ichigo's. His face had angular structure, and his chin wore a patch of unshaven red stubble. Looking like a typical Apprentice, he wore a high-collared shirt tucked into navy trousers, with pointed black shoes which reached mid-calf. On his head, a navy skull cap. During mealtimes, he dismissed the grey cloak, dagger and staff, locked away in his father's study. _

"_What I have to say will not take long, as I wish to spend as little time as possible detailing things which are unnecessary. I want to paint you a picture firstly. Massacre. We live in the midst of it, the war between man and wizards," She gestured to Urahara, who had been a noble ally to the Wizards of Norberry Hill. "has taken a great toll on our society. Each day, I see people dying. I see when, and how. And before some of you may ask, this involves my loved ones as well. I want you to imagine a world without the fear, anger, frustration, and war. Where the Fair Folk and Human kind lived together in harmony. About 300 years ago, this was how the world was."_

_Ichigo had never imagined harmony between the Humans and the Fair Folk. He thought it was strange that he, a human -well, of sorts- was living in peace with this family. A Magi, an apprentice, a Seer, and Yoruichi; who even though she was human, she still had Fair Folk ancestors. _

"_In that time, the world had two parts. The humans, and the Fair Folk. They worked for each other, some humans traders and merchants, selling goods that were made by the Fair Folk as well as themselves. Other humans were considered Noble, and worked on alliances with Fair Folk such as the Elfish and Druids; as they too had their nobles and their royalty. For years they would work, and sell, and live together in harmony as though there were no differences. Until one harvest in the autumn. _

"_There was never any sign that a third party would appear. For as long as the humans and Fair Folk could remember, it was just them. On this particular harvest time, there was a full moon, which didn't occur often, right here in Karakura; of course then, a simpler town, no city. A man, his name escapes me; but Ichigo," She pointed towards him, fear in her pale eyes, "This man is important to you, and your journey."_

"_Journey? My journey is to simply roam, I have no goal."_

"_You will. This man, he appeared, from nowhere. All I could see was his long, dark sleek hair, black as the midnight sky. His cold, un-nerving eyes, looking around him. His proud stance, looking mockingly on the simple town. That was until, more appeared. Just like him, they looked proud, cunning, and evil poured from their core. They looked like humans, but their aura was not that of humans nor Fair Folk. Fire. They set fire to the entire town, causing mayhem and destruction, killing the ones who escaped, sucking the marrow from their bones."_

"_Ururu, I know this story, could it be that you think-"_

"_Think that this story and Ichigo's situation are linked? Yes. I do."_

"_Wait, what? How does this event which occurred 300-something years ago have anything to do with me?"_

_Ururu turned to Ichigo, her pale eyes looking straight through him, "Ichigo, your abnormality was not caused by Humans, or the Fair Folk, or even The Gods. This third party, I believe, is what caused your inconvenience."_

_Ichigo spat, furrowing his brows and turning his face towards the flickering fire. "'Abnormality?'" He sneered, his sharp canine teeth morphing a menacing grin on his face, "'Inconvenience?' Why don't you just go the whole hog and call me a freak. A mistake, a fool. You have no idea Ururu, this, this is no abnormality, or inconvenience, this is a fucking curse."_

"_I know, Ichigo. I'm trying to help you."_

"_How? How is this story helping? You have no idea what it's like, knowing that you're going to carry on living even after all the ones you love are buried. I can't stay here and watch you all die. I can't do anything, because what I do get, I'll lose, it's only a matter of time before it happens. And this story, yes, sure, it's a possibility that this raving fucking third party is the cause for my curse. But how is this meant to help? I don't know where I'd begin looking for them, anyway, 'dark sleek hair' ? 'menacing eyes'? that's a good way to describe about half of Karakura. How would I know?"_

"_Ichigo, you'll know when you find them, you'll feel it."'_

~oOoOoOo~

After talking to countless priests, historians and Magi's, Ichigo was certain he knew what he was looking for. Demons. Creatures born of Hell that had crawled up to the surface, feeding off the sins and sadness of others. Some stories told that they ate humans flesh, others told that they sucked the marrow from bones, some even said that humans were hung upside down, stripped and whipped, and their insides spilled on the floor in order to make an 'offering' to the Demon's Father. All these stories were true.

Ichigo had hunted for the Dark- Haired demon for almost 300 years now. Every time he got close, he lost the trail. He had long suspected his mother's killer to be one of the demons, but after his attempts at tracking him down, he gave drifted from inn to inn, staying for weeks or months on end before tiring of an area and moving on. Sometimes he only stayed for a day or so, after drifting the streets and sensing no trail. He had trained himself to know what he was looking for. If he indeed was cursed, and he was indeed looking for the right thing in the right place, he felt it. Not a little tingling feeling, a migraine passed over him first, and if he could withstand that, nausea. If he got close enough he would get panic attacks or seizures. He guessed it was the demon's way of stopping him from ever finding him, but Ichigo wouldn't quit.

This particular inn, 'The Barracks' as it was so called, was a pretty nice place in comparison to some of the places he'd spent the night. He'd been here for almost five months, purely having a break from his tiresome journeys. Anyway, he sensed something was here, and kept his business.

His room he had modified, filling the floor with Devils Traps and keeping an eye out for sulphur. If his suspicions were right, he was after a Demon. And after reading countless books and talking to priests and Magi's, he had learned how to track a demon, trap it, and kill it. He had lined the windows with salt, as well as the doorways and cracks in the floorboards. He kept a rifle next to his bed, the shotgun shells filled with salt. The smell of sulphur was a sure way of sensing a demon.

The locals kept away from him, sure that he was insane. The fact that he kept a bag of salt and a rifle on his person at all times could convince anyone that he was crazy. Whenever he left an inn, he was always fined by the innkeepers for vandalising the rooms with devils traps, or what they called it 'meaningless shit scribbles'. Tensa had died hundreds of years ago, he never had a horse like her since. The ones he kept would always run off or get shot by bandits and mercenaries. Most of the time he travelled on foot, making it easier to cover his tracks, even though for a while he did have one companion called Renji, who Ichigo hadn't seen for about a month now.

Lately, he hadn't come across any decent trails, only swift smells of sulphur and the odd headache. He was thinking about it all the time, when he travelled, when he drank, even when he hired a local prostitute just to pass the time.

Everything span in his mind as he lay next to his latest purchase. She was skinny, not much meat to her. Pretty face, much too pretty to be working the streets. Her blond hair was a bit mangled and bruises lay across her face and neck, but with decent money and a bit of work, she could have made something of herself. He offered her a bath so she could wash herself down, it looked like she needed it and was exceedingly grateful, even offering him a discount, that of which he refused, telling her to use the money wisely. He was never pushy with the girls he got. He was still a man, even with his 'abnormality'.

The girl left with a smile, telling him that if he sees her again, she won't charge him or say no to a date. Smiling at her, he simply said "have a nice night," and closed the door to his room. He never even got to know her name.

Walking over to his bedside table, he opened it, and picked up a small dagger. It was a decent blade, about 8 inches long and 3 inches wide, the jagged edge on the one side and the smooth other, it was decent in case he ever ran into a smaller demon. Blessed by a priest of course, but he still kept vials of blood on his person, from different animals as it was still unsure of exactly which blood ganked a demon.

He put the knife on the top of the desk, before lifting the rug in the centre of the room to reveal a Devil's Trap.

"You still there? Or did'ja manage to sneak out, eh?"

The demon he had caught slowly came into view, materialising before his eyes. "Eh, that easy to spot am I? Was she not interesting enough to keep your attention?"

"I'm asking the questions here. Firstly, how'd you get in?"

The demon turned his head over to the window which was open, revealing a small gap in the salt that lay on the windowsill. "Wind isn't your pal today, my friend. But I may be."

"When did you get in?"

"About the same time as her corset came off. Couldn't resist a peek, but then again, this trap got me trapped here, so 'ere mate, let me out. I'll do you a favour."

"I'm not your friend. And what could a low-life demon possibly do for me?" He walked over to the desk and grabbed his knife, feeling the weight in his hand before grabbing a vial from his coat. Dog's blood. Dipping the blade in the vial, he walked back over to the demon. "A lot more than you think. Y'see," The demon paced the diameter of the Devils Trap, looking for a gap in the circumference. "I think I know who you're wastin' your time looking for. And I think we both have ways of helping each other. You know nothing about the demon who cursed you at all, do you?"

Ichigo snarled. The demon was right. He knew nothing about the demon he wanted, for all he knew, the demon had been dealt with, or was long gone. "Tsk tsk, let's see now. 300 years? More? You've been searching for this bloke?" The demon chuckled, his masochistic manner natural to lesser demons. "That's a lot of years. I'll bet, all you want is to die now. Right?"

"And how is that anything to do with you?" Ichigo paced outside the Devil's Trap, looking for any gap in the drawing. If there was the slightest mistake, this demon could escape.

"Well considering I just had to watch you and missy there go at it, I'd say you owe me." The demon smiled, his young immature features strangely innocent in comparison to the other demons Ichigo had seen. His short hair was wild and dark, and his eyes darted all over the place. He had three scars running down the right side of his face, and a '69' tattoo on the left. "What's your name boy?"

"Boy? Do you know how old I am?" He mocked and sneered."I could kill you right now and end however old you are. Your name. Now."

"Shūhei Hisagi. Lesser Demon. And wanting revenge on the same demon you do. Now, are you gonna let me out of here, or what?" He gestured to the Devil's Trap on the ground, and huffed in annoyance.

"I'm not letting you out of there. If you have to talk to me, you do it in the trap." Ichigo sat on his bed, about 3 feet away from the Trap. "Surely you can understand why I don't trust you. Your kind are born to kill and lie after all."

"Touché. I don't really trust you either, after all of my brothers you've slain."

"I've slain them in order to find out information. If I didn't kill them, they'd have spread the word that I'm looking for someone."

"It's not as if they can kill you though." He half- smiled, looking at Ichigo. _'Is this really the wimp that can't die? I could take out guys like this with my eyes closed.' _"What's it like?"

"What's what like?" Ichigo looked at the blade in his hand, the blood slowly dripping from the top onto his lap.

"Not having anything that can kill you. I mean, we're kind of immortal, we don't age. Once demons, we stay as we were when we were human. But we have our weaknesses. And let me just say, dog's blood? Not one of them. Try blood of a Ram, that gets us edgy." Hisagi sat down on the part of the rug that was inside the devil trap, crossing his legs and scratching his face.

"Hm," Ichigo wiped the blood off the blade with his sleeve, smirking at how the demon was treating him. Why did the demon come to him? Why did he want his help? What had that other demon done? "I'll keep that in mind."

"Now, seeing as you know jack-squat about demons. I'll sit here and fill you in… as long as you get me an ale or something, we'll be here for a while."

"I think I could do with one too, seeing such a friendly demon has made me think I'm going crazy."

Hisagi laughed, quite a humane laugh compared to the manic ones he'd heard in his time. "I could say the same about you, now, that ale?"

Ichigo walked over to the door, keeping an eye on the demon. A maid was walking past at the time, so he ordered two glasses of ale to be bought up to the room, and sat back down on the bed. This demon, it didn't make him feel ill, or give him a headache, Hisagi had a completely different aura about him than every other demon he'd met. This intrigued him. He'd listen to the demon, yes, but he'd most likely kill the creature.

When the maid returned with the ale, Ichigo gave the demon the glass, as well as bringing out his own hip flask that he kept filled with Holy Water. "Standard procedure, hope you understand."

Hisagi chuckled and took a swig of ale, "I know, I didn't expect anything less." After putting his glass down on the floor, he looked at Ichigo. "I know the demon you're looking for. He's my, gaffer if you will."

"Your boss?" _'So the demons have a social hierarchy?' _"In work or class?"

"Both. He is a member of the main branch family, the head even. He is the head honcho, the first. We are all merely mutations or offspring or experiments that he had conducted. Basically, he's our father. Not in the, 'we have sex with our sisters' sort of way. As in he was the first. He started the war between human and Fair Folk over 600 years ago, and he was an old bastard then. The story of the great fire that humans blamed on the Fair and the Fair blamed on the humans, it was him."

Ichigo dropped his glass. The object smashed on the floor and spilled ale on the rug, cutting his hand in the process. He bought his hand up to his face, expecting to see blood that never came. He always forgot his heart didn't beat. "Th-that man?" He thought of the story Ururu had told him all those years ago, the one she never finished because he refused to believe her. She was telling the truth. "He is the one who cursed me?"

"Yes." Hisagi shifted on the floor, still unable to move outside the trap. "It was an experiment he conducted. You see, the man who killed your mother, and attacked you, was an experimental subject of his. The blade that went through your heart was manufactured by Elves, the finest weapon makers. When the demons got the blade, it was re-melted down and purified, and substances added and taken away. These substances were energy particles of the head demon himself. Ichigo, it's these energy particles that are keeping you alive."

"So, his energy is keeping me alive. Does that make me part demon?"

"No, this only means that he has slight control over you, but not much. He can only sense where you are, the experiment was initially to control humans entirely, but it failed. This is how he's evaded you all this time, he knew you'd come looking for him. And he's ashamed to see his experiments fail, the proud bastard he is. His head scientist, a man named Kurotsuchi I believe, weird bloke, has a lot of insane tenancies, gave his word that you would eventually die from the energy consuming you. It seems that was not the case."

Ichigo shifted trying to get comfortable on the bed. "And you're telling me all this from the goodness of your heart are you?"

Hisagi smirked, a lazy half smile gracing his scarred face. "I only want revenge for what wrong was done to me. The head honcho's daughter and I, were arranged to be married. He called it off with no warning, claiming I was not worthy of his daughter. True, a lesser demon and a… a princess. No-one is ever good enough for his darling daughter. He wanted me executed. My soul was to be ripped from my body, my insides burned while I watched, until they make me drink ram's blood to end it. That is why I came to you."

"Hm. And you think I'm good enough for the job?"

"Nothin can kill you. I've known that the way demons work is twisted, the human part of me has always been slightly too in control. When I was turned I went strange, the inner demon in me rejected the change, it was too soon. The human part of me has always influenced me, which caused the Head to label me as a Lesser, even though I was meant to be bought into the Main family. I feel betrayed, and, there is a rumour that he, killed the Mother."

"Mother?"

"Everyone has their Mothers, Ichigo. And he slaughtered ours as he did yours. There is a resistance that lives underground, mainly full of reject experiments and those who have been betrayed. Like meself. Now, how's about you let me outta' here, and I can take you to this resistance. There's a lotta people who want to meet you, and if ya feel so unsure, we can bind a contract so we cannot harm ya. It's not as if you can die anyhow."

"What's the name of the Head Demon?"

"Kuchiki Byakuya."

~oOoOoOo~

* * *

_I apologise that it's taken me so long to update, I have been busy and I will be updating this more frequently._

Kazan~ xox


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